Persephone
by Moon Witch '96
Summary: My name is Persephone Joan Jackson. And this is my story. AU.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_My name is Persephone Joan Jackson. If you're wondering, I will kill you for laughing. Seriously. I know it's a strange name. I known since I was old enough to understand it... And I have to tell you, I really don't know if my mom was on anything when she named me after a girl that got herself kidnapped by the god of Death, especially when said girl was the goddess of Spring. Or of a saint that was burned at the stake for something or another... Hades, I'm babbling nervously now, aren't I? Okay, instead of calling me Persephone, as only my mother and other old people are prone to call me, call me simply Persi. Everyone under twenty and who has half a brain does you know... _

_SO. A little off topic there, but Hades, I have ADHD. It's not really my fault that I get off topic like that. Anyway, I digress. Also, I have to tell you one thing if you have either ADHD, dyslexia, a temper, and maybe have knack for trouble, put this damn book down and run like freakn' hell. Trust me. No __**seriously**__, trust me. Listening to me could save your life. And everyone around you. If you have neither of these things, or do and don't feel a certain tingle in your chest, and if you feel that this has nothing to do with you, keep reading. You're a lucky one._

_I envy you, because, you're probably just a normal kid. Whoopie for you. You must think that this is an interesting read, nothing more. But, if you do feel that tingle in your chest, as if you're about to discover something that you've always known, but never really did, you should __**really**_ _run. I mean it! Believe whatever your mom or dad told you about your other parent, or your birth. Believe it and live a life I can only really dream of... Because you may be just like me. And if that's the case... Well, they might find you._

_Who, or really, what are they? Well, I guess you'll find out your like me. Just to tell you, they usually kill people like me(us?) in graphic R rated ways that would make even the most seasoned serial killer cringe. Yeah. On a daily basis I might add. Whenever and where ever they can find you. Such is the life of half-blood. A what blood? I guess if you read on, or if you turn out to be one, you'll find out. Anyway, again, I have to say, be wary of what's in these pages. Be very wary. Because it might just kill you._

_This is my story, and I have to say, most of it? __**Sucks.**_

_Don't say I didn't warn you._


	2. The Lightning Theif

_**The Lightning Thief **_


	3. Sins Of The Father

**Sins Of The Father**

It was an annoying day, reflected a twelve year old girl, sighing through her nose as she looked out the school bus window. The sun was shinning too brightly on the familiar and welcoming sight that the towering buildings of Manhattan made, and kids were babbling nonstop around her in a noisy chorus. Always noisy. No one in the world could stay quiet. She liked quiet, most of the time. She really did. But quiet was a rare thing for her. She could count the numbers of times that quiet had settled over her life on her hand. And only use two fingers. What a trick! That usually could be accounted for in the fact that she lived in New York, New York. The city that never slept was full of noise.

But after a while that kinda turned into a lullaby for her, background noise that was registered but filled away as unimportant. But there nonetheless... But it wasn't really enough to put her at peace. She was always on edge, she always had too much energy... But then again that could be her ADHD talking. She couldn't really know. She was only twelve after all, and had no real knowledge to determine with certainty if the peace that she could never find was because of her condition...

"Ewww." muttered someone to her right, flinching heavily and knocking their boney shoulder into her head.

The girl turned and gave out another sight that met her. He was tall, much taller than her own petite height, and even sitting down Grover Underwood towered over her. She frowned at him. His face was sheepish, and the slight trembling tilt to his head brought out both the freckles and acne that graced his timid face. His brown eyes were sad, wide like a goat's and skittish as them as well. His curly red hair, which she was always jealous over for its bright color was currently being adorned with bits of ketchup and peanut butter sandwich, which was growing in number of pieces by the people who sat about two seats behind her, flinging more of it into his lovely hair. Her teeth ground.

"Don't do anything... You're already on probation. Besides, I like peanut butter." said Grover, his lower lip trembling, wispy beginnings of a bread trembling and being shown into a more predominate.

He was trying for humor, a weak smile appearing on his full lips and it made the girl's fists tighten. He always said the same thing, but, he was right that she was on probation from being expelled from the oh so prestigious school of Yancy Academy, aka the problem child school for snooty rich boys and girls that couldn't be handled by their parents. She was the exception here, being the scholarship student. She sighed at his pleading, and didn't turn to pummel whatever idiot was doing it, or at least give them the stink eye and instead she focused on helping him get the gross things out of his hair.

She gently pulled out bits of gross ketchup and peanut butter sandwich out of her friend's curly hair, placing the wads into her lap, thankful about the fact that she always carried tissues, along with so many other things... Grover's hair was really soft she noted as she struggled with a particular large piece of sandwich, almost like fur, and she ruffled his hair when she was done before she reached into her backpack for some of her hand-sanitizer. It was another one of the things she always carried with her, in her beat-up and vintage leather backpack she had managed to score at a thrift shop a few years ago. She threw the sandwich pieces in the napkin into a pocket of her backpack meant for trash without much care, and smiled at her friend as he gave her a grateful one armed hug. It was a little awkward, just as most of things he did, but it was warm, and full of a platonic light that made her anger ebb away...

Despite the fact that he was a boy, and lived on the other side of the Yancy Academy, Grover Underwood was her best friend. Scratch that, her only friend. It wasn't a bad thing, she reflected as she refused to let go when he tried to pull away. She really did love Grover. (In a strictly platonic way) He was nice to a fault, a little weird and maybe a lot weird, but he was the only one in the school that gave her a second look when she had arrived. She wore vintage clothes, frayed and maybe a little too old for her age, and had a serious demeanor. Her black hair was too long to be in style, her skin too pale to be pretty, and her sea-green eyes too big. She looked too young to be twelve, and too scrawny for even her size. She was also at school with a scholarship, which meant that she was smart, and she admitted to herself it was true, though it was hard to show with both ADHD, and her dyslexia. She was 'special' in other words. A target in a school full of troublemakers and bullies. Or at least, that was most would think when they looked at her.

How very wrong they were. Because if anything, the girl sitting next to Grover Underwood, one Persephone Joan Jackson, or Persi, as most called her, was not an easy target. She knew how to fight on instinct, and on the self-defense lessons her mother had insisted she take every summer. Ten odd years of such lessons had made Persi into someone who was not only ready to defend herself from her fellow students, but others as well. Oddly enough, that was how she had met Grover, who was an actual easy target.

He cried almost on first hit, which combined the fact that he had failed several grades, as well as being disabled from something in his leg bones made him a very very tempting person to hit. He had been being hit by a couple of the boys in their class when Persi had stepped in.

It had been an interesting thing for her to win, and again to see the reputation she had gained after that. Most didn't mess with the small twelve year old after that, and for that she was grateful for. Most didn't seem to see that the principle of messing with Persi's friends (friend), would be the same if you messed with her. It was a good thing that after her last stunt that most got that, save for the stupid few. Like the girl, Nancy Bobofit that had been throwing the sandwich and her friend's head. She knew it was her because she was the only one on this bus mental enough(which was saying a lot) to eat a peanut butter and ketchup sandwich. It was tempting for Persi to simply make an example out of the girl, but there was one problem.

She had promised her mother not to get expelled this year.(Again.)

She had_ promised_. And if anything, she tried(keyword) to never go back on her word. Especially when it concerned her sweet, lovely mother Sally Jackson. Sally Jackson, in Persi's opinion was the most gorgeous woman that had ever graced the earth, both inside and out. From her graying brown hair, to her sweet smile, to her soft fingers that would wind themselves her fingers' through Persi's hair, and sing to her about the ocean and other things that made her feel loved. She always smelled sweet, and not just because she worked at a candy shop at grand-central, but because sweetness seemed to leak through her pores. Her changing eyes held strength, and her quirky mouth held mischief.

If she thought too hard, Persi knew that if she jumped out of the bus now, she could catch a cab and see her mother again for the first time since school had started.

It was very, very, _**very**_ tempting. But two things held her back... The promise, and the fact that this class field trip was to the Metropolitan Museum Of Art. Sure, most kids around her were simply happy to escape the confines of the school, and they could give a flying flip to where they were going. Heck, if it were any other place, Persi would most likely have the same feelings as those around her... But Persi loved art.

She loved drawing, the feeling of the pencil in her hands, which though neat and well taken care of,were always full of graphite, an array of paints, and markers. They were slightly rough from so much abuse of such things, but they were just perfect... She called them artist hands. And she adored the feeling of simply hearing the pencil scratch out on a page. She loved being able to capture a moment in time, without the aid of camera. Her current favorite of such art work was one of Grover sneezing(which both amused and angered the gentle teenager), and Mr. Burnner (her Latin teacher) in the middle of a lecture, eyes sparkling, clad in his amazing bronze armor that he brought in every 'Tournament' day, brandishing a old fashion pen like a sword.

If she was honest to herself, and she usually was, Persi loved Mr. Burnner the best out of all of her teachers. Her art teacher was a second, but far behind simply because she was a bit of snob, and just wasn't as fun as Mr. Burnner who pushed and pushed her into learning a language that was dead, as well as the history behind such a dead language. It was surprisingly simple one, one she understood as easily as she did English... She simply struggled with the grammar. She was glad that Mr. Burnner was on the class chaperon list today she thought as she turned to look at him. He was looking down at his lap, reading a novel peacefully, which she titled her head to see was a Latin book of myths, in... actual Latin! If there was something to say about Mr. Burnner, it was that he loved his subject, and he was dedicated to it...

"Persephone Jackson, sit down!" said a sickly sweet voice.

One Persephone Jackson sat down, not really noticing that she had stood to look at Mr. Burner's book, looking reluctantly at her least favorite teacher of all, Mrs. Dodds, a cranky old crone who had simply hated her for no other reason than the fact that she was called Persephone, or at least that was what she had gathered, for the first time she had read her first name the dangerous, usually leather clad woman had scowled, an ugly twisting of her mouth combined with the lines in her weathered face. She had looked up and glared with her dark as coal eyes, blazing as if they really were coal, embers and all, and had declared quite plainly that she hated that name and anything to do with it.

"Yes ma'am." was all Persi said in response to Mrs. Dodds shout, nodding her head politely.

Mrs. Dodds sneered at her, looking at her for what she swore again that fire was burning in her black eyes before turning to watch the other children like a hawk. Persi felt her breath come in a sigh, and she flopped backwards onto her seat.

"She hates me." mumbled Persi as soon as the weathered bat(as the children of Yancy had so charmingly called her because of her tendency to wear far to much leather) turned her back from them to yell at an innocent boy in the back.

Grover smiled nervously.

"She doesn't." he said, lips twitching downwards, ears moving slightly.

She raised an eyebrow him, knowing that his ears did that when he lied... Then Persi just sighed, letting it go and looked back to the streets of Manhattan. She saw everything but nothing, and was bored out of her ADHD mind. Her fingers' suddenly twitched. She wanted nothing more to reach into her bag to draw something, and with pleasure, she did just that. Her fingers where soon filled with charcoal, (her favorite medium), and they etched themselves more as the once white paper filled itself with lines and deep shadows. She hummed absently, all of her hair over one side of her should to let the best possible light filter through the grimy bus window.

"Who's that?" asked Grover nervously to her right, pushing her hair so that it rested on her back and his fingers absently played with the ends.

Persi titled her head at her drawing. It was a man's face, or really, the vague impressions of a man's face. Maybe the hint of a strong chin, a pair dimples. The outline of a long, straight nose. The faintest traces of a beard, scraggly brows tilted happily. Wild tumbled hair... The one of the only clear things of this piece was the man's smile. It was one of humor, yet an ease and loving. It was somehow filled with adoration as well, and even looking at it made her own lips twitch with happiness, and her body fill with a pleasant warmth... The other clearly defined thing was the eyes. They looked strangely blank because it held no shading whatsoever, and as lifeless as can be. Persi was already taking out her beat up chalk pastels (her second favorite medium) as she smiled towards Grover.

"... It's my dad." she said softly.

Grover's brows furrowed at her words, but she ignored them to fill in the color of her father's eyes. They were her eyes, she suppose, sea-green, wild yet strangely calm. She couldn't quite capture the vague, hazy face in her memories, but it was close enough that it filled her with pride to have come from the person in her drawing.

"Didn't you never meet your dad?" asked Grover.

Persi's stomach twisted. She looked away from her friend and shook her head sharply. The tone of his voice held something that both bothered her and made her wary.

"It was only once... And it was when I was very small, still in my cradle... He came to visit me before he was lost at sea." she said in barely audible whisper.

Grover didn't say another word, and Persi put away her art supplies, a frown on her lips as she looked steadily out the window again. She absently brushed her stained hands on her black shorts, ignoring the dismayed chatter of Grover. She didn't like these shorts to much anyway she told him, shrugging. He sighed at that moment, and they feel into a peaceful silence. It seemed like only a second later that the Yancy academy bus was unloading and all of its insane students piled outside. After a minute of scrambling, and after the bus-driver had helped Mr. Burner off, they all followed behind the man, as he was going to lead the tour.

Once inside Persi relished the feel of the cool air breathing across her skin. It was nearing summer already, and Persi felt it in the almost scorching air outside. The seemingly odd bouts of hurricanes and other various funky weather that had been happening since last Christmas seemed to be disappearing somewhat, and she was glad to have the normal weather back.

She looked around her with a happy grin. Now this was her kind of place! The walls were full of paintings from realism to abstract, and she preened, taking out her sketch book and a pencil, absently doodling as they went about the museum, some of her doodles were vague replicas of the things in front of her, others were realistic or stylized versions of the various people ambling around the museum. She had already wasted around five pages walking through the Egyptian display, the modern art, and turned away from the cartoon version of Nancy Bobofit crying to a new page, and looking up expectantly at the new area of the museum, the Greek exhibit.

It was in this area that Mr. Burnner come alive, his expression brightening like a comet as he wheeled in. Ms. Dodds let him take over the tour truly as he lead the way, speaking a mile a minute as he gestured to various pieces, explaining their functions and then asking the kids various questions; like how did this connect to this mythology, and how was this used in regular life? How would you say this in Latin? His expression was bright, his hands were expressive, and Persi couldn't help but draw it out, slowly, lingering on his expressive eyes, before moving on to sketch out some of the various pieces in front of her. As she drew, this time a orange and black jug, part of her wondered at the fact that most of these things had survived for over thousands of years.

"And this piece is a grave marker, a stele, for a girl around your age." said Mr. Burnner sadly, gesturing to said piece with a mournful air, almost as if he himself had been to this girl's funeral.

It was a tall, towering thirteen foot stone column, with a craving of an elegant sphinx on the very top. The markings to the side ranged in various myths, and Mr. Burnner was quick to describe someone of them. But Persi was having trouble concentrating on his interesting words, and her fingers stumbled slightly on her sketch pad, the loud, noisy chatter of most around her getting on her nerves. To much noise... Too much...

"Look at his wang..." giggled Nancy Bobofit, pointing at a depiction of a naked man on the side of the stele.

With that Persi's temper finally snapped.

"Will you stop being so rude?!" she said harshly, apparently too loudly, because Mr. Burnner swiveled towards her.

"Care to comment on something Miss Jackson?" he said sharply, but not unkindly.

She almost dropped her pad in embarrassment, feeling her pale cheeks flush a brilliant red. She shook her head slowly, and tried for a small smile.

"No, sir." she said it in a quiet voice.

Mr. Burnner smiled good naturedly, and tilted his head to the side. With an elegant movement, he pointed to a scene on the stele.

"What is this then?" said he with another smile.

Persi looked at it steadily, and answered in confidence;

"That's the King Titan, Kronos eating his children, the gods."

Mr. Burnner raised a brow.

"And why did he do that?"

"Because he didn't trust them, because of what he did to his own father, which was defeat him and take his place as the ruler over the universe... So he ate them, except for the youngest, Zeus, because his mother, Queen Rhea the Titaness, tricked her husband into eating a stone in blankets. Zeus grew up, and tricked his father into barfing up his brothers and sisters..."

"Eww!" said a girl behind her.

"... And so the Titans and the gods fought for the rule of the universe. The gods won, and have ruled since." she finished.

The snickers and jeers from behind her were almost deafening, the loudest one of all, was from Nancy Bobofit:

"Like we're going to use this in real life! Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'" she snorted.

Mr. Burnner's smile seemed to thin slightly.

"To paraphrase Miss Bobofit, please explain to me why this matters in real like Miss Jackson."

Persi felt herself frown.

"Busted." muttered Grover at the question.

Nancy Bobofit turned as red as her hair as she hissed a shut up... But Persi herself paid that no mind, instead she thought of the question seriously. Mr. Burnner's dark eyes were focused steadily on her... She bit her lip in thought. Why did it matter to know about the Greek myths? Was it to learn from the mistakes of the past, or to understand the tone and life of the people that had known them so well? She felt herself truly wondering, why, why was it so important, and why was Mr. Burnner looking at her so intensely as he waited for her answer. His dark brown eyes were burning into her's and his jaw was set, his brows relaxed yet firm in their tilt. She swallowed slightly, and moved from foot to foot in her typical nerves, feeling her fingertips tingle with the urge to move and flex.

She found, no matter how hard she thought, that she didn't know, she was only twelve after all, and these type of questions were for a more philosophical age(which was not twelve, no matter how smart you are), so she told Mr. Burnner so. Or, she at least told him she didn't know. He gave her a look of pure disappointment, and Persi felt stupid in a shameful second, her cheeks burning bright with it. She looked at her booted feet, noting how scuffed the combat things were, and how dull the black leather had turned in the course of their use. She hated to disappoint teachers, or to be disliked by them(her current math teacher being the exception), but Mr. Burnner was someone she actually forced herself to impress, and any time he was less than so, she was horribly disappointed in herself.

The rest of the tour happened without incident, and for once, Persi felt that maybe, just maybe, she could go by one field trip without causing anything major. Her hope grew as they took outside to lunch, sitting on the steps of the museum and feeling the slightly humid wind blow across them. She ate her food with relish, sharing with Grover, as he always had the best deserts, today a cinnamon apple pie. She laughed long and hard as she traded it for her enchilada, (which she had packed just for this purpose) and ate it with much glee as Grover tore into his favorite food, which also was curiously his kryptonite.

"Best. Food. Ever. When humans invented this, they knew what they were doing." said Grover with a happy moan.

Persi laughed at his silliness, but at the same time wondered at his odd phrasing.

"We humans tend to know what they're doing most of the time."she said with an ease.

It was curious to see how Grover tensed, looking at her with wide, almost terrified brown eyes as soon as the words had left her lips. She didn't really process this well enough as a slap of ketchup, and peanut butter hit the side of Grover's face, hitting him with a surprising force, tipping him over and making him land with a loud splash into the fountain they had decided to eat next to. Persi herself blinked, and dodged without needing to look the wad headed towards her own face. It hit one of the stone pillars spewing water with a loud splat, and she felt something starting to turn within her with rage.

"What the hell? Stupid idiot!" called out Nancy Bobofit, not very smartly.

Persi felt that whatever burning and brewing tighter as the girl went on how stupid she was, how stupid Grover was, and that they should go to many places up and around various parts of the human anatomy that she preferred not to repeat. But she kept going, talking and talking with nothing put stupid, immature noises spewing out of her mouth. She trembled, she knew, as the onslaught of noise hit her, as the girl with freckles rushed forward to push her into the fountain, screaming something about her mother. That was when Persi snapped, fist clenching, something within her being released in a flurry of pure emotion. It was like a tsunami that had just been held back by dam walls, and it crashed out in a single scream, as Persi sidestepped and saw what looked like to be a wave of water coming out to greet Nancy, engulfing the stocky redhead as if to embrace her.

The feeling died as soon as it started, and she fell on the ground just as Nancy hit the fountain pool. She blinked, feeling tired and bewildered as Nancy stood up, shrieking.

"YOU PUSHED ME! PERSI PUSHED ME!"she said, dark eyes wild as she turned to stumble out of the fountain.

She rushed forward, and was held back by her friends, who whispered with wide eyes as Nancy struggled against their hold.

"Now Persephone, sweetie, you've done it now."said a sickly, sweet voice that Persi knew would be the end of her.

Mrs. Dodds, leather and all comforted the suddenly sobbing girl, and wrapped up her favorite student with a blanket. She promised that Persi would buy Nancy a new outfit from the gift shop. Cooing at her one last time, Mrs. Dodds then grabbed Persi around the wrist, dragging her up the steps, Grover looking at her with wide, scared eyes from inside the fountain. She panicked, feeling something in her mind screaming at her to get away from her math teacher, and looked around desperately for some help. Mr. Burnner was engrossed in his book just under the wheelchair ramp of the museum, a parasol above him like some sort of mobile cafe. He wouldn't look up, Persi knew, because he was too engrossed with his book, and that he wouldn't look up.

"Come on sweetie."said Mrs. Dodds sweetly, in a way that made Persi's skin crawl.

She hauled her through the museum, and for once when the cool air conditioner hit her, Persi felt that it wasn't a good thing, and only added to her mounting dread. But, as she was dragged, Persi rationally told herself that Mrs. Dodds _couldn't_ hurt her, and she was just going to give her a month's worth of detention at the most. Her breathe, and heartbeat however refused to agree with her mind and continued to be harsh.

"Oh yes, knew the moment I saw you."said Mrs. Dodds, firmly.

"Knew what ma'am?"she asked nervously.

Mrs. Dodds shot her a sweet, chilling smile over her shoulder.

"That you were trouble. And your name! Your mother chose a great name to anger Him! It was as if she knew what you were going to do! As if it would protect you!"she said simply.

"Do what ma'am?"

"Ha! As if you didn't already know!"sneered her teacher.

Persi could only allow herself to be dragged into the Greek section, bewildered. She was shoved, almost into the stelee, and she caught herself on the edge of the old marker, hardly registering in her fright that she was touching something so old and probably damaging it. She also didn't notice that the alarm pad she was standing on did not go off, she could only stare at the coal, ember sparking eyes of her Algebra teacher. Said teacher sneered.

"Persephone Jackson, you silly little thief give it back, or die." she hissed, all reptilian in her pronunciation.

"I don't know what you're talking about."she whispered, looking up at her, clinging to the stone, eyes wide.

Persi could only gape as her teacher then quite literally turned into the harpy she portrayed herself to be. Her infamous leather jacket blurred and boiled onto her flesh, creating to great bat-like wings, scaling over as they stretched out to their full wing span. Over twenty feet of filmy and grotesque flesh met her sight, and her clothes disappeared to be replaced by thick copper scales. She gaped at her claws, long, thin and deadly spikes protruding from her wrinkled hands. She smiled then with her horribly wrinkled face, her eyes actual flames and her tongue forked as she licked her still smiling lips.

"Then die for the task your father gave you."she said happily rising up on her great, ugly wings.

She pounced, and somehow, Persi was able to avoid both her and her long reaching claws. She sidestepped and she rolled, trying to forget her fog of surprise over what was happening, trying to remember her lessons in self defense._ If someone is bigger or stronger than you, tire them out. Get a weapon or an advantage, and strike them out. If you can't, plan B; Run like hell._ Said her instructor in her ears, and she dodged her Algebra again, hissing slightly as she felt the burn of her teacher striking her shoulder with her claws. She moved out of the way for what seemed like the thousandth time, hearing the cackle of her teacher and the roaring of her own pulse in her ears.

"PERSEPHONE!"cried out a familiar voice.

Automatically, Persi turned towards her full given name, and froze as she saw Mr. Burnner, rolling up with surprising speed. His face was causal and contrasting to his fast pace, and his dark eyes were burning with what seemed like worry.

"TALLY HO!"he said, just as he did on tournament days, throwing a pen of all things at her.

With an ease, she caught it, and not knowing what else to do, uncapped it to try and stab her teacher with it, thinking she could use it to distract her harpy of a teacher at the least. She was surprised when she found a sword in her hand, as if it had been turned by magic. Her flying teacher let out a shriek mixed with a hiss, and she stared at her with hands that sudden stopped trembling. The balance of the sword was a perfect fit, the bronze glittering with a soft radiance, and gripped the blade suddenly in both hands. Mrs. Dodds gave a final, hissing howl, lunging at her. Persi could only react, and ran towards her, feeling both adrenaline and pulsing within her, jumping to meet her Algebra teacher with the bronze blade singing through the air.

It connected, and she gasped as she fell along with her teacher, watching as she slowly crumpled into a yellow, noxious dust, still sneering and snarling at her.

"The sins of your father will be paid in your filthy blood Persephone Jackson."hissed Mrs. Dodds, her final words whispered, and leaving with the wind that blew her dusted body away from her.

Persi stared, the smell of sulfur lingering in her nostrils even as the last of the dust disappeared. Her heart pounded, her arms were trembling, and she glanced at the remains of her Algebra teacher. With a seemingly practiced movement, she placed the pen cap on the top of her sword, watching with a faint, bewildered amusement as it faded back into a pen. Then, it shifted into a small, bronze ring. She stared at it, slipping it on automatically, it being a perfect fit, and she stood. Her knee buckled, but she walked on anyway, feeling as if she were in a strange dream, heartbeat slowing as she made it to the entrance. She found the light too bright, and saw Mr. Burnner sitting calmly at the base of the wheelchair ramp. She walked to him, and flinched as he looked up from his book, as if he had never left it. His smile was stiff, and his eyes were sharp.

"Ah, Miss Jackson, glad to see you. Next time please bring your own materials... Where is the pen I lent you by the way?"he asked.

Persi looked at him, watching his fingertips moving in a small, practiced movement, snapping, and she felt the memory of her Algebra teacher attacking her overlap with some other flashing images, and she blinked at the odd, yet familiar sensation. It was like a fog on her mind, and part of her was desperately fighting to push off the onslaught of whatever was drifting over her mind like a soft, cooling mist.

"I dropped it. I'm sorry Mr. Burnner."she found herself whispering.

Her Latin teacher looked at her with a sudden, relaxed smile, as if he believed her. His shoulders slumped slightly.

"Well, then, such a pity. Let's go, the buses are here."he said, that disarming smile still on his face.

Persi turned straight around, feeling his eyes on her back as she rushed over to the bus, mind turning with the 'mist' and her system still pumped full of adrenaline. What the hell, she thought as she sat down, had just happened to her? And what did her missing father had to do with this? As Grover sat next to her, ears moving like crazy, and as the unfamiliar blonde woman that said she would fail a boy in Algebra behind her, she found that she couldn't answer that question.


End file.
